


May the Dreadwolf Take us - Tarot - Art-Challenge

by DeaTenebrae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, MayTheDreadWolfTakeUs-Art-Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeaTenebrae/pseuds/DeaTenebrae
Summary: May the Dreadwolf take us - Art ChallengeDay 1:  The Fool  (Solas journey with the Inquisition is about to begin)Day 2: The Magician (Solas examines the survivor of the Conclave)Day 3: The High Priestess (the first rift)Day 4: The Empress (Solas observations about the Herald of Andraste)Day 5: The Emperor ()
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan & Solas, Solas & Original Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. The Fool

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I'm going to have to apologize, I try to stay somewhere near our themes, but I also am a little bound by the HC in which I will stay. These scenes are the beginning of the Fen'an-Solas - Romance I wrote for the Solavellen Hell Artchallenge (Called "Prelude")
> 
> if you notice something off, PLEASE correct me! I am here to learn :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas journey with the Inquisition is about to begin

He waited. The tavern he had chosen was the nearest safe point to the event that would take place in any minute. The nauseating smell of booze mixed with the odor of too many unwashed bodies filled the air. He tried to ignore the noise of the humans all around, drowning their limited mental capacities in alcohol. His plan had worked out more or less so far. He’d have preferred his orb being unlocked somewhere more remote, but as long as the orb would find its way back to him, he didn’t care what the creature that once was a Magister would destroy in doing so. This twisted abomination of a world would not survive anyway — neither would the fool that played with powers he couldn’t possibly understand. Solas didn’t pay attention as a fight broke out. These humans were petty, shortsighted beings, unworthy of his attention. A stone child with an impressive crossbow was showing off his skills as he felt it — the unmistakable energy of his orb building up. Pure chaos followed the explosion.

Something had gone very wrong. The breach in the sky was unfortunate, but not his foremost concern at the moment — the orb. He could not sense it anywhere near the site of the explosion. It should be there — yet, it wasn’t. Only later, when the humans swarmed the place, he realised his grave mistake. It should have been impossible, but obviously he had underestimated the mage calling himself a god severely — the only possible way anyone could have taken the orb was effective immortality. The orb was gone. Not the mage, he himself had been the fool all along. He had given the most powerful weapon remaining in this world to a madman that believed himself a god. This set him back to the start and with this breach in the sky, matters had only complicated. He failed his people once again, but an alternative plan already started to form. 


	2. The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas examines the survivor of the Conclave

Solas’s initial plan changed immediately, when he heard of the second impossible thing this day had in store for him — another survivor. He had to find out exactly what happened here, and how this all had come to pass, so he assumed a new role and looked to find the stone child from earlier. With any luck, the dwarf would recognize him. He was surely the only being in that tavern he had looked upon long enough to remember the face. Given his statue and the crossbow, he wasn’t too hard to find even in the middle of all the chaos and people panicking.

The faith’s soldiers took in every bystander and helper in the vicinity, their highest, the so-called Divine was one of the many victims. Guards brought Varric, the dwarf and himself to questioning along with the other people. Now was his time to shine.

The Seeker’s concerns were easily brushed away with a few choice words and a nice story to go with. The red-haired woman was harder to convince. But they were desperate, what they needed was an expert on the things they couldn’t understand, and his new role would provide them with the knowledge  _ he  _ deemed necessary. Plus, if they trusted him, he could guide. 

Despite the suspicions in the beginning, they heard what they wanted to hear and grasped at any straw — there was obviously a deeper connection between these two and this Divine. Overwhelmed by the aftermath of the event and stricken by the loss of so many of their people’s lives they were desperate. He had a proper alibi — the dwarf must have confirmed it — and they needed every help they could get. It didn’t take long until they led him to the cell that held the lone survivor of the blast — unconscious and crackling with the energy of the anchor. This was both a good and a bad sign. It didn’t bring him closer to his goal, but at least the Magister did not get what he was going for. The anchor was still safe — at least safer than in the hands of a lunatic, depending on the character of its present wearer.

It was a mystery. Surviving the touch of the orb was unlikely for anyone of this time, to hold the power of the anchor — impossible. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it surprised him to see the pointed ears of an elf lying on the hardwood prison bench, a female with wild hair in some shade of white or grey. A mage, by the faint aura of magic surrounding her. The humans that brought him here had almost fled the cell as soon as he was in, and it did not surprise him — like animals, humans feared everything they did not understand. They hated in blind arrogance and destroyed everything in their wake — he had no love the beings this world had brought forth.

The anchor crackled wildly when he neared her to examine the effect it had on the young woman’s body, the green light revealing the faint lines of Mythal’s vallaslin that branded her face dalish. His power did not suffice to take the mark from her. So she had to live if there were to be any chance against the tears in the veil and the breach. While he held her hand to study the anchor, her features twisted in unconscious pain. Even in the darkness, her delicate features were pale. Pulse beating like a war-drum against his thumb, her entire body tensed as she fought the mark’s power — he could see, nearly feel how fiercely she clang to her life. But he saw no reason she withstood the power raging through her. Nothing special. An ordinary elven female. Behind closed eyes her pupils moved wildly and he couldn’t help the rising feeling of compassion for this young woman. If she survived, her life would change significantly. After careful consideration, the only thing he found could be done with his limited resources, was containing the mark where it had already taken hold — the spell would not keep it from spreading forever though. Eventually, the elf would be consumed by its power if he wasn’t able to take it from her in time. He wondered where this turn of events would lead.


	3. The High Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first rift

As commanded, Fen’an followed behind the Seeker that just threatened to kill her some moments ago. This huge magical breach in the sky -- and her own connection to it -- unsettled her. She had never seen such a thing, a wound in the sky. A mirror-image of the tear glowed and sizzled on her hand with electrifying sensations, causing her fingers to twitch from time to time. It wasn’t exactly painful, but the persistent and unwavering hum in its constancy. Fen’an had agreed to do whatever was necessary to help -- even after the rude and unnecessary interrogation she had to endure. Good thing that her senses told her more than the woman let on. The Seeker was only desperately trying to get hold of the situation — Cassandra Pentaghast was not an unreasonable person which she proved only minutes ago.

Demons rose around them — Fen’an never had encountered one before. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, however — her senses reacted to those creatures. The impressions she picked up were not as strong as people’s but they just felt _wrong_ and strangely corrupted. She froze in the first moment — the vile, twisted feeling of envy, the cold thirst for life — it confused and appalled her, but she snapped out of it quickly enough to defend herself. After the fight, Cassandra had agreed to letting her keep the staff she found in the rubble, if only reluctantly. She was still considered a prisoner. 

Further on, at a ruin, three men fought against more of those demons — a human, a dwarf and an elf. They were outnumbered, so she ran, not even waiting for the Seeker that now followed on her heels. A glowing green hole hovered mid-air, similar to the breach — and the thing on her hand. Through the electrifying sensation surging through her palm she felt a connection to it, but she had no idea how she should use that in any way. Without thinking, she jumped into the fight, brushing away the rising revulsion the demons brought forth. When the last of them fell, the sensation in her hand intensified, as if the rift was pulling on it. Within moments, it hurt. It took all of her focus not to sink to her knees, but then, the elf just grabbed her wrist and held it out to the rift. The closer the pain deepening, the nearer she got until the power just connected. The sensation in her hand changed to a steady flow, energy pouring out of the tear inside her palm, but the relief was only temporary — when the rift closed, it felt like ripping her hand apart. When the mage let go of her arm, getting the tingle back under control was her primal focus. Between opening and closing her fist and trying to relax her fingers, nothing else existed. Only when it returned to a more tolerable state she looked up, wanting to ask what he just did. But she wasn’t prepared for these eyes. The question stuck in her throat. They were endless. Not just deep enough to lose yourself in — no, they were boundless as if looking through a window into an endless grey sky with gloomy clouds transforming their shape in the distance. She had never seen eyes like that; they fascinated her. It took a moment to realize she was very impolitely staring at a stranger — again. Fen’an was bad with first impressions. It had just been a brief moment, but it was enough to make her cheeks flush in embarrassment. She cleared her throat and asked, hoping the awkward moment would just pass. To her surprise, the mage proceeded as if nothing unusual had happened — and for that she was more than thankful. 

The moment Varric opened his mouth, she knew she’d get along with the dwarf just fine. He was a satirical, a bit saucy character, but calm in emotions and certainly the friendliest of them all. Solas, as the mage later introduced himself, was more reserved, an expert of all things concerning the fade, apparently. Besides the strange eyes, there was something about him. But she had never met elves without a vallaslin — maybe city-elves were just a little different? 

The day was not over yet. The greatest trial for the mark on her hand was ahead — the greater rift in the temple where they allegedly found her. 

* * *

These rifts were death-traps for spirits in the fade that were unfortunate enough to get caught within and pulled through the veil. Nothing of the spirit that once was remained on this side. The curiosity for life imbued in every spirit twisted to an insatiable hunger, hate even. He pitied the lesser shades he fought — they were not here of their own will. They were innocent, but in this state they could not remain. The thought of all the spirits losing their own self this way pained him immensely. Solas saw the dalish girl accompanying the Seeker from the distance. Surprised that she was up so soon, he watched the pair’s approach out of the corners of his eyes. He had expected her recovery to take longer, and if she was here already, it meant she had undergone the interrogation as well. 

As soon as she saw the fighting, the girl rushed towards them — a staff in hands, which meant she must have gained the Seeker’s trust at least in some way. Impressive. There was a moment of hesitation, an expression of deep felt disgust shadowing her face before she jumped right into the fight. If not her posture, her more roguish movements and the sure, light-footed steps, the way she handled her staff truly made her out as a dalish. This one had never experienced the shackles the faith put on their mages. When the shades fell and the rift drew fresh energy from the fade, trapping even more unexpecting spirits on the other side he knew he had to stop this immediately!

The dalish didn’t even look at him, when he grabbed the anchored hand without care for the body attached to it, and held it out to the rift until he felt the flow of energies connect. Her expression somber and concentrated, her muscles tightened within his grip — one last surge of energy from the rift and suddenly it was over — the tear in the veil sealed, the spirits safe. Pulling back her hand like she just burned herself, the girl stared at the anchor in her hand, still crackling with the energy of the exchange. Though she hid it well, she seemed to experience pain. He wasn’t sure if there was something he could do to relieve her, but he decided to try. It was unnecessary for her to suffer needlessly.

The girl was about to say something, when their gazes met for the very first time. A brief moment of silence followed. Bright eyes, best described as colourful, stared at him — or through him — as if searching for something within the deepest corners of his being. The stripping intensity of her stare prolonged the moment until the question she wanted to ask finally released him. “What did you do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo... the high priestess. I feel I have not really tackled the theme well enough. we have two POVs - two pillars - at least xD the first quiet observations of each other (note: Fen'an doesn't care for looks, her lack of description/comment is intentional), the second time solas feels subconscient compassion towards her (not sure if I relied that good enough)


	4. The Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas' observations on the Herald of Andraste

Solas’ plan for the organisation forming to fight the effects of the breach involved getting close to the ones in charge. His role as the fade-expert being only one part — he needed their trust if he was to guide them to the right directions. Holding himself in the background, he observed his future ‘comrades’. If he was right, the elven girl branded with the anchor would have a vital part in future decisions. If she wanted to or not — too much depended on the mark. To get close to her, he needed to know more about her motives. What drove a young dalish mind like hers?

Considered the wolf was not held in high regards in the twisted myths the elves of this time considered their cultural heritage, she wore a rather peculiar name — especially for a dalish. Fen’an. Ironic, for the one bearing Fen’harel’s anchor. 

From the very first rift to the temple of Sacred Ashes, he watched every movement, every look she cast. Fen’an appeared to be an open-hearted young woman, never shy of a smile. She had a soft spot for the dwarf’s humorous nature and a new nickname before they even laid eyes on the temple. She was well-trained and though he could see the mark causing her trouble, she stayed focussed during their fights and closed the second rift without further instruction. The quickly hid, white-knuckled fist didn’t escape his attention. The reason to hide her pain was beyond his understanding — it could have brought her sympathies with the others, yet she chose to hide it. Unspoken questions burned behind the sunny green eyes, curiously observing their surroundings. Solas found himself wondering what these questions might be.

* * *

After halting the expansion of the breach sealing the rift, the girl had collapsed. In her absence, the faithful folk declared her ‘the Herald of Andraste’. Desperate minds calling for hope and guidance in fearful times, as seen countless times in the past. With the recovery of the Herald, the Inquisition was proclaimed — a bold and rebellious move, but the right one.

Though they joked about it in the afternoon, the title imposed on her shoulders didn’t seem to fit well with the bearer of his mark. Whenever they called her by it or bowed before her, the smile on her face froze, if only for the fraction of a moment. Their talk had been brief, nothing more than an introduction of his role and a few particularly interesting views for a dalish. What surprised and secretly amused him, was her promise to help ‘however she had to’ should the Inquisition do him wrong — the surprising part not being the promise itself, but the sincerity it was delivered with. She really seemed to care about people. She left him with even more questions than he had before.

* * *

In the last light of the day, the Herald left Haven. He found her sitting by the frozen lake, staring into the distance. The last rays of sunlight were creeping over the edge of the mountains and tinted the landscape to an unreal colour. With the streaks of her silver-white hair flowing in the breeze, she looked untroubled and relaxed. He watched for a while, and decided to leave and let her have that well-deserved moment of peace for herself. As he turned to go, she suddenly clutched the anchored hand — her suffering obvious this time. The pain banned from her features, she looked up to him when he approached — even managed to smile — but the clenched fist pressed to her side told another story. Wordlessly, he sat beside her. Her gaze settled on his eyes when he reached out to her. This time he was prepared for the unsettling stare, but when she laid her hand in his, he found it difficult to refocus his attention to the anchor. He had only a faint idea how to ease the effects his mark still had on her, so he had to try and adjust the existing spell. It took a few attempts, but finally a sigh of relief proclaimed success and her hand relaxed into his palms. Eyes widened in disbelief, she examined the anchor. “Ma serannas! Thank you, Solas!” A smile so bright it could outshine the moons at night lit up her features when she looked at him. In the twilight of the fading day, her beauty was undeniable. "Are you sure this thing still works?" her comical expression underlined the satirical scepticism of her voice. He couldn't help but to laugh with her.

In the following discussion, Fen’an entrusted him with some very unexpected views for a future Keeper of a dalish clan. He had to cast a barrier against the cold of the night when the topic later changed to the Fade and his journeys — she had so many questions. Their conversation was still ongoing when they reached her quarters in Haven — they had to postpone to another day. There was more to Fen'an than he previously suspected and more than she let on. 

* * *

When he closed his eyes that night, green eyes emerged from the darkness, golden suns shining in their midst.

“Ma serannas! Thank you, Solas!”

“For all I care, they can call me the Herald of fucking Fen’Harel if it gives people hope. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Would it have helped anyone if I said something?”

“I _believe_ the world would look very different, if gods deserving of that title were still around. Depending on the definition of a god, that is — I have never seen one. Did you?”

“Why? There is a difference between faith and tradition. I can be sceptic and still honor the our ways.”

“So basically like people, just a little different?” 

“The fractions of our history that still remain are not much more than myths, thousands of years old. Think of all the information lost when a story is retold only once!”

_“Ma serannas. Thank you, Solas!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really able to write this how I imagined it, I hope it's somewhat okay how it turned out in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it wasn't too bad :) Please feel free to contact me if you have suggestions! PLEASE CORRECT ME if something is OFF or used wrong ;)


End file.
